


Deadly Profits

by Ayngelcat



Series: Distress Call [2]
Category: Aliens (1986), Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:25:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayngelcat/pseuds/Ayngelcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Content and Warnings:* Medical dissection, talk of deaths and violence.</p><p>Summary: A follow on from: "They Mostly Come In The Dark." Stranded on a desolate planet with the Combaticons, Swindle really wishes he hasn’t gone into the medlab. Or does he?</p><p> </p><p>Not betad - so let me know if you see any glaring errors!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deadly Profits

Swindle proceeded nervously along the narrow corridor of the abandoned base which now appeared - apparently - to be their home.  
   
Darned Constructicons! Fine, they had helped him out in the past. And Scavenger _was_ very cute. But it was still an unspeakable inconvenience. Primus only knew what was happening to his business interests while they were holed up in here; not to mention that now, Swindle could expect to be stalked, terrorized and then either devoured or bailed up by these xenomorph things when the barrier failed to hold them back. 

And he didn’t even like to think about what came after that. Scavenger had said far too much. The jeep shuddered. Great! He’d _said_ answering their distress call was a bad idea. Why didn't Onslaught ever listen to him?  
   
Rounding the corner, Swindle found himself outside a door. "Medlab" it said, in large letters.  
   
 _Medlab._ Hadn’t Scav said this was the safest place in the compound? And Swindle could do with some safety, a place he could get some well earned shuteye after the 'ordeal' so far. Why, hitherto he had hardly recharged, due mainly to the somewhat daunting prospect of waking to be confronted with scales and claws, gnashing jaws and tentacles.  
   
Swindle strained his audials. But no sound came from behind the door. Feeling a little more cheerful, he pushed the door. It opened.  
   
But the medlab wasn't empty. On a stool by the bench was Hook. His head was bowed, optic ridges furrowed in intense concentration as he prodded with tweezers the object of his attentions, a large and obviously organic specimen spread out in a tray. Swindle glimpsed a slimy grey mass and what looked like tentacles and globules. A very faint squelching noise sounded at Hook’s ministrations.  
   
Swindle swallowed hard. He was no great lover of things organic to begin with - let alone when they were alien thingies, and laid out _like that_. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Turning back towards the door, Swindle attempted to tippytoe back out.  
   
But it was too late. "Ah - Swindle! What a nice surprise. Come and say hello to my friend here." Hook drawled.  
   
To hear it referred to as such sent waves through the lining of Swindle’s energon processor. He could think of several things to say, and none of them were _hello._

The trouble was, you didn't say  _no_ to Hook. Or not show enthusiasm for things he thought worthy of attention. Otherwise, next time you needed fixing, all kinds of uncomfortable situations resulted. And you just never knew when you might need the slagger. It definitely wasn't worth the risk.  
   
So Swindle feigned good humour. "Heheh!" He said, sauntering over, forcing a nonchalant grin. "So - what have we here?"

He made himself peer at the specimen; then took a step back when an acrid, sulphur like smell assaulted his olfactories. He swallowed hard. Up close, the thing was _horrendous._ "Is that - er - one of _them_?" he asked.  
   
Hook gave a disdainful snort. "Not a full adult! This is just the parasitic larva stage." His tweezers lifted a flap of grew blubber to reveal a tube like structure with a mouth on the end. "It emerges from an egg, and attaches to the host and impregnates them prior to the process of gestation. After that it dies. Like this one."  
   
Swindle wrestled with the churning in his energon chamber. Oh sigma, what did Scavenger say? If you didn't get the thing off, then it bust out of you and scattered your bits everywhere - in a way that made it well nigh impossible you'd ever get put back together. Even by Hook.  
   
"This is the very one that was attached to Scavenger," Hook said pleasantly. "It was a shame I couldn't let it gestate, but it would have killed him. Never mind! Its been great to have around just the same."

Swindle cringed inside. He said the word almost _fondly;_ as though he were referring to a pet, and not one of the deadliest known critters in the universe. 

Picking up a scalpel, Hook sliced neatly down one of the tentacles. Puss, and greenish grey liquid oozed forth. Hook’s optics flared, crimson. He smiled delightedly. "It’s magnificent, isn't it?" he whispered.  
   
Swindle thought it was almost certainly - with the possible exception of Quintesson offspring - the most revolting thing he'd ever seen in his life. "It's - uh - interesting!" he said. He shivered. "It is definitely - dead?"  
   
Hook looked up, still smiling. "Oh yes, very dead," he said. "Just like those others behind you. The colonists collected those. "  
   
Swindle turned around. He saw rows of jars, each containing a form like the one on the table. "Lots of little dead alien bodies, alas," Hook said. "So sad. They never even got to see their creations"  
   
"Swindle didn't know which was worse. Hook, the things in the jars or the one on the table. Not to mention the prospect of the 'creations' - which hardly bore thinking about. "What happened to the - er - hosts of those things?" he asked nervously.   
   
"Colonists? Oh there's a few in the freezer," Hook said, in a way which sent a shudder all the way up Swindle’s backstrut. "I'm studying that side of things too. Most of them, however, did not remain in large enough pieces to make study worthwhile."

Hook sighed. "Such is the xenomorph that once it is out, it simply hunts more prey for its queen." He regarded the specimen with the utmost admiration. "Such dedication to its cause!"  
   
Swindle was rapidly reaching the point where he didn’t know how much more he could take.  Primus, when did Hook get this weird? He always was, Swindle knew, but _this?_ He wondered what had 'happened' to the Constructicons after they'd left Galvatron's army. Yeah, definitely it had been a bad idea answering that distress call.  
   
Swindle decided there and then that he would do everything to get out of this hellhole as soon as possible. He hoped, fervently, that Vortex was doing what he said he was and getting out there and hunting the things. For once, he even felt well disposed towards the copter.  
   
Hook still had a smile on his face. But now it was tinged with a touch of sadness. "Alas, I have not been able to capture and study a fully fledged adult," he said. "We lack the means for proper containment here, and also adequate equipment. These colonists were - crude - in their methods.”

“Such a pity!” he went on. “Such an advancement for the Decepticons it would be if we could get one…." he leaned close to Swindle. "Such a _valuable_ advancement!"  
   
However squicked he might be by this whole set up, or Hook, it was virtually impossible for Swindle to ignore that word. It went to the very core of his businessmech programming. It was on a par with other words like 'profit,' 'expensive, ’rich' and 'lucrative,' which compelled his immediate attention - and, if at all possible, action. He looked at Hook "What's that you say?" he said.  
   
Hook's optics gleamed. He chuckled. "I thought that would get your attention, Swindle," he said. "The point is, I need to get a proper, adult Xenomorph back to Cybertron. Then I can develop its - potential. Maybe train it. Unlike my team mates, I don’t regard this as impossible." he raised an optic ridge. "Are you, Swindle,  _interested?"_  
   
Fumes wafted from the specimen again. Naa! Swindle had been  _absolutely right_ in his previous plan. "Now look," he said. "I’d like to help. Truly. But I ain't no alien expert. You're best asking Onslaught. If he thought one of these things could make him a big wheel in the war, he’d do it for sure!"  
   
A pained look came about Hook. "I fear he would talk to Scrapper, who wouldn't allow it," he said. "And the point is Swindle ..." his voice took on a soft, wheedling tone again, "once he knows, he's not going to let you take the profits, is he?" A long, thin finger ran down Swindle's cheek. "I was thinking more of an arrangement just between you - and me. Oh and uh ..." he chuckled. "Perhaps just one more member of your team."  
   
Another one of _those_ words!And the trouble was, Swindle was really _thinking_ about it. Yeah! Xenomorphs had been outlawed because of their lethal weapon capacity. When Galvatron found out that he, Swindle, had procured one, he'd pay a fortune. Not to mention raise the jeep extremely high in his esteem.  
   
And Onslaught would come around.  
   
Swindle cleared his throat. "Er -w what did you have in mind?” he asked.


End file.
